Written for Gamma (Gamma Orionis)'s fic exchange at xoxLewrahxox's Bellatrix Lestrange forum; prompt stated in full at the end.

With many thanks to both Gamma, for her unfailing support, and of course to Anna (Anna Scathach) for being such an invaluable and incredible beta.

Written for Jasper (The Psychotic House-Elf)'s prompt, and dedicated entirely to him, in hopes that he likes it.

WARNINGS: Explicit violence, character death, infanticide, etc.

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly

But merely vans to beat the air

Air which is now thoroughly small and dry

Smaller and dryer than the will

T. S. Eliot, "Ash Wednesday"

Part I: The Tragedy

"A human being is an evil entity…" – Niklas Kvarforth

Late summer, 1983:

A pair of heavy boots stomped above them, sending down another thin shower of dust. Against his better judgement, little Ronald Weasley looked up instead of down, receiving a faceful of it, and having to fight against a sneeze.

Like all the changes that came with the new regime, this one had been slow and subtle. A reform here, a new law there, and slowly – very slowly – but surely, the Weasleys had found themselves as fugitives in a world increasingly hostile not only to Muggles and Muggle-born wizards, but sympathisers as well. It had been Arthur, one day a few months ago, who had brought a boy not much older than Ron home with him, after seeing the child's parents – the mother a witch and the father a Muggle – taken to Azkaban. At least, he assumed they were being taken to Azkaban, but the way he heard the officials talking, these parents were hardly the first – and far from the last – in this situation, and with the prison nearly at capacity already…

Molly hadn't wanted to keep the child at first, but Arthur had begged, had implored her – You don't know what these people do to the half-bloods and the Muggle-borns. You don't want to know. And eventually she relented, letting little Seamus share a room with her youngest son, but not allowing him out with them when they went shopping, nor allowing him to play outside, nor even for him to spend too much time peering out windows…

And yet somehow they knew.

Somehow they always came to know, eventually, when someone was breaking the law.

The floor under the kitchen was a hollowed out, dusty chamber. When the Burrow was first built, so many centuries ago, it had been used as a pantry for certain herbs and spices that were best kept in the cool and dark. But it had long fallen out of use by the time Molly Weasley took ownership of the kitchen, and it was sealed shut to prevent the curious twins from prising the trap door open and falling in. But on the day when Arthur came home early – bursting in the door, bringing a whirl of dirt and summer sunlight in with him, speaking of anti-Apparation charms and danger – it was opened again, and the family was crowded inside, without time to air out the dank and mildew and dust.

It was hot, with the ten of them huddled beneath the ground, backs pressed up against the dirt, legs twisted up beneath them, all trying so very hard not to make a sound, not even to breathe. And it wasn't long until they heard someone blast the door open, and two pairs of heavy shoes came, walking loudly along the wood floors, sending vibrations which seemed to echo infinitely, and which sent little shivers of dust drifting softly downwards into Ron's nose, like powdery snow.

He fought back a sneeze.

"The house is dead silent," a voice said roughly. "They must have known we were coming."

"Such brilliant deduction, Mulciber," a female voice snapped. The sound of cabinets opening and shutting, then: "Check the top ones too."

"Nothing here, just a bunch of shitty plates."

More cabinets shutting, then the sound of porcelain shattering loudly against the floor, and a low laugh.

Ginny Weasley, barely two years old, clutched in her mother's arms, gave a little cry of alarm. Molly's eyes widened in horror as she clamped a sweaty hand against her daughter's mouth and nose, muffling the sound.

"What was that?" the woman said sharply.

"Creaky floors," Mulciber said blandly. "This house is a shithole, everything creaks and groans. Listen."

A pair of heavy boots stomped above them, sending down another thin shower of dust. Ron bit his lip, drawing blood, to keep the sneeze inside.

"Wait!" the woman said.

"Fuck, Bella, what?"

Another pair of shoes tapped over them. "Doesn't that sound hollow to you?" Molly gripped her daughter tighter, ignoring the child's strained, strangled protests. "And there's that whining again! I'm telling you –"

"What's this?" a third voice said. "What's taking so long? Has one of you even checked the upstairs yet? For all we know they could have run away already, with all the goddamn noise you two are making down here."

"It's barely been two minutes, Lucius," Mulciber said.

"And that's more than enough time for them to have left. The Dark Lord put me in charge of this operation, Mulciber, with strict orders for us to bring the blood traitors to him. Don't fuck this up. And you, Bellatrix, you can wipe that stupid smirk off your face."

"If you're so bloody bothered you should have come in and done the job yourself," she said. "Go check the upstairs, if it's so important to you."

"Not alone – you two are coming with me."

Molly let out the breath she had been holding in, loosening her grip on her daughter at the same time, and feeling the limp child sink further into her breast.

One of them sighed, and the boots began to cross the kitchen floor, sending a last trickle of dust down – one very last trickle of dust, powdering across Ron's face.

And he sneezed.

"Did you hear that?" Bellatrix nearly shrieked. "I told you, Mulciber! I told you something was different about that floor … Confringo!"

The wood shattered, exposing the nine Weasleys and little Seamus Finnigan to the light. The children began to scream and cry – all except Ginny, who lay against her mother, unmoving – and Arthur made to draw his wand.

"Avada kedavra," Lucius shouted, hitting the man in the chest and watching the light vanish from his eyes as he sank a bit deeper into the ground.

"Bellatrix, Mulciber, grab the children!"

A few shouts of Incarcerous! followed, and a single Stupefy!, and Bellatrix and Mulciber began to haul the bound, screaming children to their feet, out of their little pit. Molly they left lying there, Stunned, with Ginny's limp body under one limp arm.

"Is that all of them?" Lucius asked, scanning the group of boys, all in tears, blandly. "And for Merlin's sake, would one of you Silence these brats?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes as Mulciber said Silencio, Silencio, Silencio…, and murmured under her breath, "Too good to cast his own bloody spells now?"

"Alright," Lucius pulled Ron and Seamus by the arm as he made for the door, "that's all of them? You two take the rest, Yaxley is waiting for us."

"Wait!" Bellatrix said. "The baby…" she crossed back to the pit, and bent over Molly's body, prising Ginny out from under her warm, sweaty arm.

The baby made no sound, no movement. Bellatrix shook her a bit, then snorted. "It's dead," she said, almost, but not quite, laughing. "She was holding a dead baby!"

Mulciber cracked a half smile. "What's the difference between a dead baby and a Nimbus 1000? The Weasleys don't have a Nimbus 1000."

Bellatrix snickered.

"Enough!" Lucius snapped. "You two are disgusting. Take the children and follow me."

"What about this one?" Bellatrix asked, motioning with her head to the baby held loosely in her grip.

Lucius turned back to face them. "Leave her with the mother," he said, and left with Ron and Seamus in tow.

Bellatrix knelt by the pit and gingerly lifted one of Molly Weasley's arms, dropping Ginny on her breast, upside down, before letting the flabby arm go, so it flopped down heavily on the child.

•••

Lucius, Bellatrix, Mulciber, and Yaxley arrived at the Ministry of Magic with the seven boys not much after two in the afternoon. As they each stepped out of their Floo, pulling the still bound children along with them, only a few workers turned to look at the odd sight. By now, many employees of the Ministry were used to seeing members of the elite Death Eaters bringing the children of misguided parents to the Ministry for re-education, if not families of undesirable status to be concentrated in more suitable areas.

As they crossed the Atrium to the lifts, witches and wizards stepped out of the way for them. The four Death Eaters, even only partly in uniform, struck an imposing figure as their boots landed heavily against the dark granite floors and their robes beat the air behind them. A tense quiet befell the Atrium, broken only by the sound of their echoingly loud footfalls and the softer scrabbling of the bound children behind them. Only a few Ministry employees turned to look – but all of them froze as the Death Eaters passed them by on their way to the lift.

With a gentle ping, the golden gates slid open to reveal a handful of people standing within.

"Clear the lift," Lucius said coldly.

The three wizards and two witches, after a brief moment of stunned silence, spilled out into the Atrium.

The four Death Eaters unceremoniously pushed the boys into the lift. "Make room," Bellatrix snapped, shoving one of the twins closer to a wall. "Make some bloody room. Which floor are we supposed to take them to?"

"Ninth," Yaxley said, reaching for the button.

"No, not this time." The other three turned to look at Lucius. "The Dark Lord wants them on the tenth floor."

"Why?" Mulciber asked, as he elbowed Charlie to make more room for himself.

Lucius frowned. "I think that would be best not discussed here, don't you?" And he turned to look forward, sternly, at the doors to the lift.

Mulciber glared at the side of his head, but said nothing.

The lift arrived, and as the gates slid open, Lucius said, "Blindfold them."

The group stepped out into the dark hallway, and from one of Lucius's pockets were produced seven dark strips of cloth, which the other three began to tie around the boys' eyes, tightly, not paying much attention to make sure their hair didn't get caught in the knots.

"Hurry up," Lucius snapped as Yaxley fumbled with Bill's blindfold. "And follow me."

Yaxley, finally giving up on the difficult blindfold, tied it sloppily, gave him a shove, and took the back of the trail of prisoners, mutely and blindly shuffling down the corridor.

The result of Yaxley's shoddy work with the blindfold, however, was that shortly after Bill felt a rough hand on his back pushing him forwards, the cloth slipped, exposing just enough of his left eye that he could see where they were going.

And twelve year old Bill knew to use that as best he could – memorising the route his captors took so that, were there a chance for escape, he could take it with some slight likelihood of success.

The path was fairly simple: two left turns, a right, down a short flight of stairs, and into a room barred with onyx doors.

The room itself was plain and mostly empty – dark granite floors, just like in the Atrium, a long table nearer the side opposite the door, and two windows, one on the left and another on the right, that were charmed to display gently rolling hills swathed in thin mist.

Bill, his brothers, and Seamus, were ushered towards the left wall.

Just as Bill sat down with his arms, bound behind him, pressed uncomfortably against the cold wall, someone tapped at the door. From the corner of his eye he could see the blond wizard – Lucius Malfoy, who he had sometimes heard his father talk about – open one of the doors to let a pale purple aeroplane zoom in, circle his head once, then land in his outstretched hand.

Lucius read it quickly and said, "The Dark Lord wants to see us before…" he waved a hand vaguely at the children.

"All of us?" Bellatrix asked.

Lucius inclined his head. "It's a meeting, Bellatrix," he said drily.

"Then who'll watch the children? Are we supposed to leave them unattended?"

"They're tied up and blindfolded," Mulciber said. "And even if they did manage to get out of the room, how far do you think they'd get before someone caught them? Seven scraggly little boys wandering through the Ministry…"

Bellatrix frowned but gave no further argument, instead saying, "Where does he want us?"

Lucius opened the door, and the three other Death Eaters followed. "The usual place…" Bill heard him say distantly, as their footsteps echoed down the hall and the door closed behind them.

This was his chance – possibly the only one he'd get. He began to rub the rope that bound his hands against the wall, hoping it might sever the cord. But the wall was too smooth to have much effect on it, he realized shortly. And so instead he opted to wriggle his hands, in hopes that the movement might loosen the bonds. He prayed his brothers were doing the same.

The ropes chaffed his wrists, and as minutes passed he began to feel a thin, tickling trickle of warm blood running down his hands. The friction of it burned, and the blood that ran so gently on his skin was aggravatingly itchy. But yes, he was sure he could feel the ropes loosening, sure he could almost slip a hand through…

Long minutes passed, but finally, finally, contorting his hand in just the right way, pulling his thumb so far in that it almost hurt, and fingers pressed so close together that he could feel the bones pressing against each other, he managed to slip a hand through, and the bonds slipped off his wrists.

He wiped the blood away hastily and bent to free his feet – much quicker work, though his hands were shaking badly and his fingers were still slick and slightly sticky with blood, his raw wrists bleeding still…

But then he was free, and he stood on unsteady legs, tearing off the blindfold. His brothers were next. Charlie first; he pulled the blindfold off, and began to free his hands – simple work, as Charlie had already begun to loosen his. And soon, together, they began to free the younger boys.

His hands were shaking badly, his legs barely supporting him, and tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. Bill gritted his teeth and fought to keep himself from crying, although the tears he wouldn't let fall were clouding his vision, and it was so difficult not to cry, and his head was pounding from trying so hard…

As he pulled Ron to his feet and led his brothers across the room to the door, he began to wish he had his wand with him, that he hadn't left it in his room, that he hadn't run so hastily downstairs when he'd heard his parents calling for them, that he'd only just taken a moment to hide it in his robes. But it hadn't felt real then. The danger had been play-danger – the danger of being found in a game of hide-and-seek, the danger of a hand about to touch his arm in a game of tag – not real danger. Not once, not even while the ten of them were hidden under the floor, did he really, truly, think they'd be caught, that after today he wouldn't be able to go home anymore, that he wouldn't have a chance to finish writing the letter he'd started, that he wouldn't…

He blinked rapidly. No, he thought. I won't cry. I won't.

He ground his back teeth together and reached for the door handle, praying it would be unlocked. The metal gave him a little shock, but the door slid open easily to reveal a narrow hallway and a short flight of stairs.

He beckoned his brothers onwards, and as they hesitated in the doorway, he wished he had his voice back so he could do more than motion furiously and pull at Percy's arm.

But finally they relented, and silently, fearfully, hearts pounding so loudly and rapidly that Bill was almost afraid his would burst and he'd die and – if your heart exploded did you explode open too? Would he be left lying in the corridor for ages, chest all open and bloody?

By the time they reached the lift, Ron had cried himself out and was doing no more than sniffling silently. They had met no one along the way, which Bill was thankful for – more than thankful for – though he was certain it was an oddity to wander through empty halls in the Ministry. He'd been to his father's office before, had seen all the people bustling through the halls, all the aeroplanes with memos, but here on the first floor there was none of that.

But the lift posed a new problem. Certainly someone would be in it – the lift was never empty – and what were they to do then, when whoever it was found out who they were, and why they were there?

Bill closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths to steady himself, and pressed the button, begging Merlin – if Merlin, so long dead, could even be any help – for his plan to work.

The gates slid open with a gentle ping to reveal a solitary woman, looking a bit frazzled, a bit stressed, standing within. When she saw the raggedy, crying group of boys, her mouth formed a little 'O' of surprise, and she moved to the side to allow them all in.

"Boys, what are you doing here?"

Bill made sure his sleeves covered his bleeding wrists, and put a hand to his throat, miming his speechlessness.

"You can't speak?"

He shook his head, and mimed waving a wand.

The witch tilted her head to the side. "You were Silenced?"

He nodded and gave her the most pleading look he could muster, while miming a wand again.

"Would you like me to give your voice back?"

He nodded again, heart hammering nervously.

She produced her wand and murmured a spell, watching as Bill tested his voice with quiet little noises.

"Thanks, ma'am," he mumbled.

"Do you mind if I ask what exactly is going on?" she said kindly, bending a little at the waist to be more at Bill's level.

Here was his chance. Bill let his lip wobble just a little bit, and said, "We were here with our dad and he took us to his office for a bit but my brothers and I were being too loud so he got a little mad at us and Silenced us and said he's give us our voices back after we were good but then Ron started to wander away and I followed him and my brothers followed me but we got lost and I don't know where we are and we just want our dad!" he let his voice break a little, theatrically, at the end.

The woman's face contorted sympathetically. "Oh you poor boys," she said, reaching out to give Fred, who was standing beside her, a little hug. "Who's your father?"

Bill's heart nearly stopped. "A-Arthur Weasley…" he said quietly, praying she didn't know what had happened.

"Weasley…oh yes," she nodded, and smiled down at him, "That's a good family to belong to, dear. What's your name?"

"Bill."

The lift reached the Atrium and gave a little ping as the gates slid open.

"Step outside for a moment with me, boys," she said.

He hesitated, and a few older wizards, holding a large case between them, stepped inside.

"Come," she said, motioning.

Slowly, he followed her, pulling Ron, who was hiding near the back, along with him.

They stepped out into the bustling Atrium, and she motioned for them to come closer. "Now Bill," she said, "I'm going to take you boys back to your father, but first I have to ask – I know your family, and I know you only have five brothers, not six – who is this?" She put a gentle hand on Seamus's shoulder, as he huddled near her legs.

"I don't know," Bill said. "We found him on that floor and he just started following us."

She turned to Seamus. "What's your name, dear?"

He stared up at her with wide eyes and said nothing.

"Can he talk?"

Bill shrugged. "He hasn't said anything to us."

She crouched down to his level. "Are you lost?"

He looked at Bill, tears in his eyes, and he began to cry silently, his mouth opening but no sound coming out.

The woman stood and took a step back. "He's Silenced too." Bill said nothing. "Where did you find him?"

"The tenth floor," he said.

"And do you know who he is? How he got there?"

"I've never seen him before in my life." He hesitated a moment. "Please, ma'am, we just want our dad, can we go?"

She pursed her lips suspiciously. "I'll take you to your father in a moment, boys, but we can't have an unidentified, Silenced child running about the Ministry. Come with me to the desk."

Bill felt his stomach flop. "What about the Floo?" he said quickly. "Can me and my brothers Floo home? Our mum's there and it'll be less trouble for you if you let us!"

"I'm sorry Bill, but I can't do that. If anything were to happen to you…"

"Nothing would happen! We've used the Floo before, we know what to do and I can take Ron with me since he's so young, it won't be any danger and it won't be any trouble!" He was starting to become frantic, and the witch could tell.

"I can't do that, Bill. Just come with me, and I'll take you to your father in minute." She took Seamus, still crying, by the hand and began to walk across the floor to the desk.

She was about three steps away, and Bill was wondering if his brothers would be able to Floo home if they had no voices, when the lift opened, and he heard a witch shriek, "There! That's them!"

He turned quickly to see Bellatrix, followed by two other Death Eaters he didn't recognize, bursting out of the lift towards them.

He grabbed Ron fiercely by the wrist and pulled him along after him as he shouted to his brothers, "Run!"

Bill heard a few screams behind him as spells flashed, some hitting the walls and sending bits of plaster flying. He pulled harder at Ron, who was small and slow, and, it felt, dragging him backwards. Running with Ron was like trying to run through molasses, and with the Death Eaters shouting spells behind them…

He didn't dare look back to see if he brothers were still behind him – he remembered Charlie telling him once that looking back while on a broom made you lose your momentum, and Bill assumed the same was true of running.

There was a door at the far end of the hall, and Bill knew if they could just make it there…

Ron stumbled, and his hand slipped from Bill's sweaty grasp. He half turned, the edges of his vision black, so he saw nothing more than Ron's body, tiny and shaking, lying on the floor, and Bill reached down to grab his arm, to pull him up again, but a spell flashed right past his hand, red and violent, missing him by a hair's breadth.

And his heart hammered in his chest, louder than ever, and tears began to stream down his cheeks, blinding his already faltering vision, and he turned and straightened without his brother, and he ran.

His feet slapped the hard granite floors, though he heard nothing beyond the rushing in his ears, and his heart burned in his chest, and he could barely see, but reached the door and pulled it open, finding himself in a Muggle telephone box where a kind witch's voice said, "Where to?"

"Up!" Bill screamed, hammering at the walls. "Up! Take me up!" He didn't want to turn around – his brothers weren't with him, they were somewhere back there, at the Ministry, and he'd abandoned them…

The box began to move upwards slowly, just as he heard something slam against the door, and a few incoherent shouts.

He shook, and he cried, and he could barely breathe, and the box stopped a moment later, the witch's voice saying, "I hope you enjoyed your time at the Ministry. Have a lovely day."

And he stepped outside onto the streets of Muggle London, tears in his eyes, dried blood on his hands, lost and alone for the first time in his life.

Favourite Pairings: My favorite pairings are irrelevant for what I have in mind, and I also think it would be better without a lot of romance, but if there have to be pairings... I really like rare/unusual pairings, so any strange (and I don't mean crack/squicky strange) ones would be really fun to read if they were written in well.

Prompts: A dystopian world in which Voldemort killed Harry Potter in 1981 and took over Wizarding Britain completely. I don't have a particular time period in mind - just sometime after 1981. Imagine a world that's kind of like if the Nazis won, except without goose-stepping. Or, I don't know - modify it or come up with something entirely different; I won't be particularly upset if I don't get exactly what I want.

Likes: Sadistic violence, torture, brutality, angst, character death, Schadenfreude, general tragedy.